


Angry Sex

by Shakespeares_Girl



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: Angry Sex, Backstage, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-26
Updated: 2012-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-31 18:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shakespeares_Girl/pseuds/Shakespeares_Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really, really angry boys.  Like, screaming at each other, death threats, detailed descriptions of how they'd murder the other.  Aside from the ending, this is not particularly happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angry Sex

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I should mention the "him" mentioned in reference to Tommy's jealousy is meant to be a faceless "him", not a specific him. Hence "him" being the only pronoun.
> 
> And finally, I wrote this as a way to work out my immense amounts of frustration with the show I was crewing for. I'm doing make-up, but aside from one or two easily taught things, I feel like I'm pretty much superfluous. They don't need me, no matter what anyone says, they could do this just as easily with Make-Up Counter Mom running the show as with me. And I like Make-Up Counter Mom, which makes it worse. And really hard to yell at her to get her kids out of the fucking way. Anyway, I was feeling a lot of pent up rage, and with the whole "no swearing around children under the age of about seventeen" rule I have, I can't really take it out AT ALL, except through writing. So, TADA.
> 
> TL;DR? I was angry. I wrote Hate Sex. Enjoy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tommy growls, yanking Adam down into an angry kiss. “Fuck,” he repeats.

“Fuck you too,” Adam snarls back, pushing him harder against the wall and grinding his hips up into Tommy again.

“Shit!” Tommy hisses. “Fuck! I hate you. Lambert, I really fucking hate you, and god--”

“Oh, shut it, you little bitch,” Adam snaps, digging fingernails too-hard into the meat of Tommy's thigh and dragging them across skin, leaving gouges that ooze blood. “You fucking love me, and you know it. Otherwise why is my dick up your pretty little ass? None of your slutty little girlfriends give it to you like I do, huh? No one gets you off like me.”

“Fucking bastard,” Tommy cries out, forgetting to be quiet, forgetting he's not supposed to still be in love with Adam. “Bastard, I hate you,” he shouts, his voice cracking as Adam thrusts inside him. “I hate you so fucking much, and god, I would fucking kill you, strangle you, wrap my bare hands around that stupidly pretty throat and just choke and squeeze and hold on until you were dead, just fucking dead, and then he wouldn't have you anymore, damn it, but I can't—I can't,” he's wailing now, and Adam is pushing into him harder.

“Oh yeah, baby, tell me how bad you hate me,” Adam laughs. “I believe you, really. Since you hate me so much, I'm not even gonna touch that pretty little cock of yours.”

The sound that leaves Tommy's throat is part howl, part scream. “GOD! I would, I'd do it! I'd fucking murder you, look in your eyes and just watch while you died, until that stupid blue that I can't stop looking at was all clouded and you were gone, because I want you so fucking bad, but I can't have you—I can't have you and no one else should either,” Tommy shrieks. “Damn you, Lambert, I'm so fucking in love with you I can't even—I can't even hate you properly!”

Adam stops at that, pulls out, steps back and zips up, puts himself back together and stares at Tommy. One hand covers his mouth, and Tommy thinks the fingers are shaking, but that might be a trick of the light. “Don't say that. Don't fucking say that.”

“Too god damn late,” Tommy spits. He watches while Adam scrunches up his face. Tommy can't tell if it's anger or disgust, those two look so similar on Adam, so closely related.

“Don't,” Adam warns again. “You just told me you love me, and if you don't take it back I--”

“Fuck you. Can't handle the truth? Too fucking bad. I'm still god damn in love with you and I don't fucking care anymore. I don't care, as long as you stop--”

“Stop?”

“Stop fooling around with _him_. I can't take it, I can't take knowing he has what I want, I can't do it anymore. Jesus Christ, I'm a fucking mess, Adam. I can't even get it up with a girl, I'm so damn focused on you, on what you'd say about her, about how you'd laugh at fashion choices and damn it, I can't even breathe without--” Tommy cuts himself off. His voice is wrecked, his throat feels raw. He really thinks he might start crying in a second.

“Jesus,” Adam breathes. “Do you really—do you fucking mean it?”

“Yes, for god's sake! Yes.” Tommy stares down at his shoes.

“Fuck,” Adam says. Then again, “Fuck.”

Before Tommy can come up with some sort of witty response to that, Adam's back in his personal space, pulling Tommy's own neglected pants back up and tucking him away, taking care, taking possession. “Okay. Okay, this is . . .” When Tommy dares a look up, Adam's beaming at him. “You love me. This is not a dream.” Tommy blinks. “I'm so fucking glad you had the guts to say it, I wanted to, I wanted to so bad, but I couldn't, and I thought you were with the girls, and just—I'm sorry. I'm an ass. I really hope you don't actually want to murder me, because that would suck, but I am so glad you're in love with me.”

“I don't—what are you--” Tommy's too surprised to form coherent sentences, but then, Adam's kissing him suddenly, and coherent sentences are the least of his worries. In fact, he may not have any worries at all, come to think of it. Finally, Adam pulls back, and Tommy's mouth feels ravaged without being violated for the first time in months.

“I love you too, you ass,” Adam says, voice fond and affectionate, and suddenly, Tommy understands. They're both morons, but maybe, just maybe, things are going to be okay after all.


End file.
